


You're a Doll

by ali_aliska



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bucky is still the Winter Soldier, Bucky is trapped inside a plush, Canon-Typical Hydra Behavior, Comfort after nightmares, Cursed Bucky Barnes, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enchanted plush, Everything is Soft and Sweet, Fairy Tale Elements, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Hydra is still a bunch of dicks (also evil wizards), Lonely Tony Stark, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Nightmares, Plush coming to life, Plush/doll moving on its own, Sweet Bucky Barnes, Sweet Tony Stark, Tony Stark is good at fixing things, Tony is Still Tony Stark, Touch-Starved Bucky Barnes, True Love's Kiss, bed sharing, spooky elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-04 06:57:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21193499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ali_aliska/pseuds/ali_aliska
Summary: On his trip to the toy store, Tony finds a plush doll that seems out of place. Everyone else finds it creepy, with its big, blue eyes and black ninja mask, its body torn up and mistreated, but Tony thinks the little guy is adorable and just needs some extra love and care.He takes the little soldier plush home, never realizing the simple, loving touch to mend old hurts would be the thing to save them both.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [journeythroughtherain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/journeythroughtherain/gifts).

> Since October is my favorite month, I really wanted to write something that went along with the spooky/supernatural themes and through a completely unrelated conversation with journey, this fic idea came into being. So, as always, thank you, jo, for inspiring literally half the things I write! 💜
> 
> I won't be able to finish the whole thing before October ends, but given my current work load, I'm glad to get the first chapter out at all and hopefully the rest will follow in short order as we get closer to the holidays (and a little bit more time off). 
> 
> Tags might be updated as the story takes its final form, but there shouldn't be any surprises. Most of this will be pretty soft and sweet with lots of h/c between Tony and Bucky.
> 
> I hope you enjoy! 💜💕

“Mommy, look at that one—look, look, he’s so _ugly_!”

Mid-reach, Tony stopped and glanced over to see a little boy tugging on his mom’s jeans with one hand while using the other to point at something on the other side of the plush stand.

“Honey, no, don’t—don’t touch that—just look how dirty that is!” The woman bent down to take a better look, then wrinkled her face. “I can’t believe they’d just leave something that lying around with the rest of the merchandise. I thought this was supposed to be a reputable business.”

The boy seemed to agree, scrunching up his little button nose in the same way. The mom took his hand and led him away, and by the looks of her, it was probably to get the shopkeeping so she could complain.

Tony shrugged to himself, then grabbed the plush he was reaching for—a big puppy dog with giant brown eyes and silky-soft fur, all four paws white like he wearing two pairs of socks.

Peter was going to _love_ it and honestly after everything that happened with Ben and Peter’s parents, that kid deserved something—_everything_—nice and while Tony was doing all he could to help May get through this, sometimes the smallest things meant the most and if Tony was determined to buy Peter an entire toy store, one plush at a time—well, that was between him and the stuffed dog in his shopping basket.

He couldn’t resist picking out another one though—a furry spider with very un-spider-like, chubby legs—and a third one joined its brothers in quick succession, a handsome-looking teddy bear Tony couldn’t simply pass by. The bear looked _very_ distinguished in his bowtie and top hat and just begged for a friend.

The three toys would’ve been enough for his godson, but curiosity got the best of Tony and as casually as he could, he walked around to the other side to see what it was the little boy from before had declared so _ugly_.

He quickly spotted something out of place on the very bottom self.

“Aw, well, hey there, little guy,” Tony whispered to himself—to the plush, technically—as he kneeled down to see the toy better. “How in the world did you get here?”

The overly offended tone aside, the mom from before wasn’t wrong. This plush didn’t seem to belong in this otherwise pristine and glittering toy store and it had certainly seen better days too. Where all the other plush on this shelf were adorable fluffy animals, this was one was a person—although the giant, glitter eyes were the same and this one sported a pair of bright baby blues framed by two down-turned eyebrows. He was bigger too, at least fifteen inches top to bottom and Tony guessed the little guy was supposed to be a ninja of sorts, dressed up in a black suit with little strips of felt going criss-cross across his chest. There was a black mask obscuring the lower half of the plush’s face and the stubby little arms were mismatched—one was black, like the rest of the outfit, but the other one was silver, sporting a tiny red star on the sleeve.

The mismatched left arm was nearly torn off its seams though, hanging limply, stuffing coming out in little tufts and the rest of the little ninja—or perhaps a soldier—wasn’t looking so well either. 

Without thinking too much about it, Tony reached out and took the plush off the shelf, cradling him in his hands and carefully turning him to and fro, assessing the damage.

A patch of the long, brown yarn hair was gone—ripped out, most likely—and the black uniform had several tears as well.

“Poor guy,” Tony soothed, “someone hasn’t been playing nice with you.” Bright blue eyes stared back and Tony couldn’t help the twitch of his lips. He brushed a gentle hand over the yarn hair. “And we’re quite dusty too, aren’t we? They probably kept you in some dark, musty bin for ages.”

Tony flipped the plush upside down to see if there was a tag and startled when the little ninja let out a tinny chuckle.

“Oh my god, that’s adorable.” Tony put the plush back to rights and thumbed at the mask, finding small stitches woven into the fabric. “You’re just a man of many talents, aren’t you? I bet you could—”

“Oh, sir, I’m so sorry, excuse me.” A harried shopkeeper appeared out of thin air on Tony’s left, startling him too. She looked away and Tony followed her gaze back to the woman from before. “Is this the plush, ma’am?”

“Yes, that’s the one! I mean, just look at it, it’s _disgusting_. All dirty and torn up. Lord knows where it’s been—it could have _disease_ on it! If that’s how you keep your inventory around here—”

“No, no, ma’am, we’ll get rid of it right away, I promise, our merchandise is always handled with utmost care and the company’s standard are—”

“Mommy, mommy, can we go look at the Legos instead? Stuffed animals are _boring_!”

The little boy was having none of this discussion about_ inventory_, already pulling on his mom’s hand in the direction of the Legos section; she huffed and with a roll of her eyes and a muttered, “You’ll be hearing from me on _Yelp_,” she followed the tug of her little boy’s hand.

Tony blinked as he stood up and looked back to the shopkeeper, watching her let out a breath as her eyes tracked the woman walking away. Finally, when the woman was occupied on the other side of the store, some of the shopkeeper’s plastic contrition bled over into annoyance.

Tony tried to keep his own annoyance off his face. Ugh. People in retail deserved so much better.

“Everything alright?” he asked and the shopkeeper—Vasilisa, he spotted her name-tag when she turned to him—nodded before giving him a small smile. This one appeared more genuine.

“Sorry about that. Here, you can give that one to me. I don’t know how he got up on the shelf again,” she muttered to herself, “and out of the basement this time too—”

She reached for the plush, but Tony clutched the sad, little ninja tighter to his chest.

“No, you know what, I will—” Tony glanced down and swore those big, blue eyes _pleaded_ with him. “I’ll take him too. Along with the whole menagerie in here.” He gestured with the arm holding the basket.

Vasilisa eyed him dubiously. “Are you sure? I mean, Mr. Stark—” Oh, and she recognized him too. Great. No wonder she was side-eyeing him. “Just look at that awful thing. I’d feel bad charging you money for it.”

“No, no, it’s okay. I want him. He grew on me.”

She looked at him like she didn’t believe him. “But don’t you think it’s creepy? I mean, it _is _dirty and broken and—well, just look those eyes—and that_ laugh_. That doesn’t creep you out?”

She shuddered theatrically, but Tony was too busy grinning. “It’s kinda cute, actually. Took me by surprise the first time, but it gives him—oh, I dunno, _charm_ or something.”

“Whatever you say, Mr. Stark. Let me just—” She alleviated Tony of the basket, but didn’t so much as touch the plush in Tony’s arms. “If you’re sure, then let me take you to the counter, sir.”

Tony obediently followed and settled in against the counter while she rung him up. He held his ninja friend in one arm while he tapped his fingers with the other.

Tony tried not to let his mind drift, but ideas kept popping up every time he thought about the plush, things he’d need to pick up, tools in the workshop he could repurpose, restoration techniques he’d need to look up. Tony’s normal materials of choice involved a bit more metal and a little less yarn, but switching things up was fun and he always did love a challenge.

“Do you know if he has a name by chance?”

Vasilisa paused and looked up, first at him, then at the plush, then back to meet Tony’s eyes. “You want to know his name?”

Tony shrugged, refusing to let her scrutiny make him feel self-conscious. “Names are important.”

She held the scrutinizing gaze a moment longer, then let her eyes drop as her hands daftly continued to wrap up the other plush in glittery gift wrap. “I’m sure there’s a tag attached to him somewhere.”

Tony nodded as he watched her, glad he was holding onto his friend. The last thing the poor guy needed was glitter on his very serious ninja outfit.

Dirt and grime Tony could work with and the rest of the damage could be patched up easily enough, but glitter? From personal experience in his early twenties, Tony knew glitter_ lingered_.

Petey, on the other hand, loved glitter and wouldn’t mind his spider and friends arriving extra sparkly.

While Vasilisa put her finishing touches on his purchases, Tony decided to look for that tag. He finally found it—after having to flip the plush upside down again, hear that silly chuckle, and watch an older man with his daughter hurry by _faster_ as he gave Tony and the plush a wicked side-eye—but what Tony found wasn’t so much a tag as a simple scrawl of cursive in faded white on the inside of one of the corners of the black ninja jacket.

“Chuckle Bucky. Oh my god, that’s adorable,” Tony said and grinned wide. Now his little ninja friend had a name. Bucky.

_Let’s go home and get you fixed up, Bucky._

When Tony looked up, Vasilisa was giving him that unreadable look again. Her eyes drifted down to Bucky as she handed Tony both the shopping bags and his credit card. “That one is troubled—_trouble_, I mean. For the store. Chasing away customers, people making a fuss. People always make a fuss when they see something… out of place.”

“Right, right, bad for business, I’m sure,” Tony agreed absently, trying to decipher her strange look.

“Thank you, for taking him. You might be—” She shook her head. “You have a good heart, Mr. Stark.”

Even these days, with weapons production long behind him, that still had to be the nicest thing anyone had said about Tony Stark in _months_, so to avoid showing any genuine reaction—which would’ve been a blush and a stutter and Tony trying to convince Vasilisa that he really, really _didn’t _have anything close to a good heart—Tony shrugged and flashed an easy grin.

“No, thank _you_ for running a lovely store. My godson can’t get enough of these plush.” When she smiled—and that mysterious look disappeared—Tony added with a trademark wink, “Now let’s see if a certain clean energy mogul can figure out how to use Yelp too. Maybe he’ll leave a kind word or ten.”

Tony’s suave celebrity-billionaire moment was ruined entirely by his awkward attempt to fish out the change in his pocket—plush, bag, card, he didn’t have enough arms, and where was Dum-E when you needed him? Finally, he managed to pull out a roll of bills and drop them into the mostly-empty tip jar on the counter, but Vasilisa seemed more amused than anything at this point.

“Take good care, Mr. Stark,” she told him again and Tony waved goodbye best he could with his full arms, leaving her kind but cryptic comments behind, already too busy making plans to detour for some very important, plush-mending supplies.

* * *

Proper plush care involved _a lot _apparently, although Tony had to visit two different craft stores to discover that. At the first store, he made the mistake of bringing Bucky along and showing him to the shopkeeper in an attempt to explain what he’d need to fix Bucky up. The shopkeeper blanched, sneered, and told Tony not to waste his time and to toss the disgusting thing straight into the garbage. Some things were too broken to ever be _salvageable_, he said, and Tony walked out of that place with an indignant huff and several choice words all muttered in angry Italian as he clutched Bucky protectively to his chest lest the mean shopkeeper decided to go rogue and snatch him away. 

Tony was almost tempted to leave his own angry Yelp review here, but he chose to walk away with his and Bucky’s dignity still intact.

The second visit to a different store went more smoothly, mostly because Tony left Bucky in the car and approached the shopkeeper with a white lie and a smile, telling her his godson’s favorite stuffed bear had been terrorized by an overeager Golden Retriever.

She was far more helpful—and quite committed to sell Tony Stark anything and everything she could come up with as she made her recommendations. Tony didn’t mind the up-sell and walked out of the store arms laden with bags once again, some full of familiar tools, some with things he’d have to research and pick up as he went along on this newest adventure.

The bags went to the backseat next to the ones from the toy store; Tony peeked inside to give Bucky a conspiratorial smile. “Just wait until we get home and I show you the workshop. You’re gonna love it. We’ll get you fixed right up.”

Tony got into the driver’s seat and drove back to the Tower, its familiar silhouette already lit up against the rapidly approaching night sky.

* * *

Dum-E examined Tony’s handiwork and announced his delight with a row of enthusiastic beeps. Apparently he found it satisfactory—and he seemed to like Bucky too—but the intricate nuances of plush mending still wasn’t interesting enough to keep the bot around and he rolled away, back to the other side of the lab, probably to order around the cleaner bots.

Tony shook his head fondly and went back to his project, assessing his own work before he let himself move on to the next and final step.

Less metal, more yarn, but Tony had always been great at fixing things up and his new friend was no different.

Sitting propped up on the workbench like a little king with his own pedestal, Bucky sat surrounded by cleaning solutions, sponges, new stuffing, yarn—basically half the craft store Tony had managed to acquire earlier.

Tony initially thought to leave the fixing up for tomorrow, to call it a day after coming back from the shopping trip, but every time he looked at Bucky, he felt those eyes practically beg him for proper care. In the end, Tony didn’t have the heart to put Bucky away and make him wait until morning, so he turned right around, took the shopping bags down to the workshop, fired up the coffee maker, and got to work.

Tony’s grin widened and he gave Bucky a private wink. Bossed around by an inanimate plush already. How typical. He’d never hear the end of it from Rhodey, but it wasn’t like Tony went to sleep at a reasonable time most days anyways. At least tonight he was losing sleep for a good cause.

After all, Bucky looked so much better already. Fresh and clean, with those giant glittering eyes clear and shining. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, although Tony didn’t think Bucky would appreciate Tony grafting an actual tail to his little behind, no matter how cute it would be.

New stuffing replaced the old, moldy tufts, the little ninja suit got fixed up and now gleamed with a new row of tiny buttons Tony added as his own touch of flair. Everyone deserved a little flair, especially downtrodden little soldier-ninjas who had a rough go of it and deserved to look spiffy.

The black mask Tony left alone however. It had been stitched directly onto the plush by the original designer and while Tony wished it didn’t have to permanently obscure Bucky’s face, he didn’t want to mess anything up by removing it.

He did wonder if Bucky was smiling or frowning beneath it though.

“Alright, we have just one thing left and you’ll be good as new,” Tony said and began to dig through the box of thread, trying to find the right one.

He was certain any person would’ve found it downright odd to see Tony Stark—genius, philanthropist, Manhattan’s most eligible bachelor extraordinaire—dressed down to a tank top and oil-smudged jeans, hair in disarray, talking to a plush in these late night hours in his secluded, dark workshop.

Then again, some of the tabloids _did_ like to paint him as a mad scientist and they weren’t even always _wrong_—although Tony’s more experimental projects tended less towards killer AI armies and more towards playful bots who couldn’t make an oil-free smoothie if the fate of the free world depended on it.

Tony looked back at Bucky and resisted the urge to tip the plush over so that adorable chuckle could complete the picture of ‘the mad scientist and his spooky, spooky work’.

“We gotta keep you upright and steady, don’t we? This last part won’t be easy, but we’ll get it done, I promise.”

He went back to digging through spools of thread.

Rhodey claimed it was Tony’s work on artificial intelligence that gave Tony the quirky habit of keeping up one-sided conversations with _all_ inanimate objects. Rhodey wasn’t wrong of course, and whenever Tony cooed and murmured praise at the coffee maker and the ice machine, Rhodey’s teasing was always fond, but Tony had found early on in his work that simply _talking_ to his creations as if they were already fully realized did more for his success than any coding breakthroughs ever did. Even when the AI software was in its infancy, even when it was simply code still discovering itself, speaking to it as if it were already real made it come alive, made it feel and think and _be_.

Poor, sweet JARVIS, who was still a baby AI in that infancy stage, was probably sick and tired of Tony’s stories already, but Tony hoped JARVIS would go easy on his creator once he developed into the incredible, world-changing entity Tony envisioned him to be; Tony hoped JARVIS would remember the love Tony had for him, that he’d remember the soft words of encouragement and expressions of pride—and not the ridiculous stories of Tony’s antics in and out of the boardroom.

Tony hoped Bucky here remembered him fondly too. With a steadying breath, Tony threaded the needle, dragged his magnifying goggles back down over his face, and leaned in closer.

He tried to treat Bucky with the same care he treated his own creations, but he still winced with sympathy when the needle went through the cloth for the first time, the thread dragging through it, pulling the pieces of Bucky back together, linking the black of his suit with the silver of his left arm.

Tony swallowed and pierced the material again, keeping his hands steady. It felt… _odd_, the sensation and the movement, as if it wasn’t just felt and thread and cloth beneath his fingers, but something warmer, _something_—

Tony blinked and shook his head. Maybe there _was_ a good reason responsible adults went to bed at a decent time each night.

The odd feeling didn’t return and nothing else distracted him from his work—nothing but the occasional bump and beep coming from the other side of the lab, but those were the background noises of Tony’s everyday life.

The stitches came together in a neat row, one by one by one, and before Tony knew it, he was done and the stubby arm was secured back to Bucky’s body.

He tied the knot and secured the stitch, then snipped the thread and popped the needle back into its cushion.

“There, little friend, now you’re all better,” Tony declared, pulling the goggles out of the way and off his head, turning his hair into an even bigger bird’s nest. “Clean and whole and looking so dapper in your little ninja suit.”

Bucky didn’t respond—_that _would’ve been a good sign to get some sleep though, Tony thought to himself and smiled—but right now, if he could, Tony liked to think the soldier would be smiling beneath that mask too.

Tony picked Bucky up to examine his work again, making sure nothing was missed, and decided Bucky really did look better after a proper bath and some patching up. He was a cutie of a plush before, but now he was downright adorable.

Tony brushed a strand of yarn away from one blue eye. He initially thought he might give Bucky to Peter once the plush was fixed up, but he found himself reluctant to part with it.

Peter was a sweetheart, but he was still a little boy who didn’t always handle his things with care—which was exactly what kids needed to do sometimes, that was the beauty of play, but Bucky here, he was an old soul like Tony, someone who needed some peace and quiet away from sticky, demanding hands and slobbering hounds (the old dog was a sweetheart too, but the _slobber,_ good lord).

Tony’s thumb brushed over the mask. No, Bucky could stay here with him for now. He smiled, feeling a little silly to have so much affection for a simply toy already, but that was alright, he supposed. Being silly was essential in his line of work and he’d long ago embraced the eccentric billionaire look. Revolutionizing clean energy and creating the first true artificial intelligence—even if that AI was a little clunky and very afraid of dust bunnies—didn’t happen by taking yourself too seriously and doing things by the book.

He supposed he never took himself too seriously though—didn’t _care_ enough to take anything too seriously after his parents’ sudden passing. The tabloid-worthy escapades of his youth certainly proved it and his reckless ignorance and misplaced trust in old, treacherous men solidified it, but that was years ago and the past was the past.

Obie was dead, Tony and his company rose from the ashes and reshaped themselves into something better, something more _worthy_. Something kinder and more mindful and ready to mend, rather than destroy.

There were no more escapades, no more wild adventures, and even though loneliness tugged at Tony’s heart in these quiet moments, a slowly-simmering need for companionship, a desire to face this world with someone at his side, he knew the few friends he did manage to keep—those who stood by him, who could be trusted without a second thought—were only a phone call or a car drive away.

Things were better now, really, and Tony’s past only came back to haunt him in his dreams.

“You don’t mind sticking around, do you? It gets a bit lonely here at times—one of my best friends is gone a lot—military, you know how it goes—and the other is about to become CEO of my entire company—it’s a long story, but trust me, I’m a disaster and she’s gonna be amazing, that’s all you need to know—but it means she has no time for my neediness anymore either. And Happy—well, Happy’s sticking to Pep like glue now that he’s Forehead of Security. I mean, can you believe what he did the other day?” Tony tapped Bucky’s cheek playfully. “He made me wear a security badge inside the Tower. It’s _my_ Tower! My name’s in big, bold letter on the side of the building! That man, I swear.” Tony stood up and hopped over Dum-E’s newest project—a disassembled toaster of mysterious origins—as he walked over to another workbench, the one he used for paperwork. “Still, it’s mostly just me and Dum-E and the cleaner bots when I’m not in the office, so it’d be nice to have someone else around. Handsome guys like us need to stick together, right?”

He placed Bucky onto the desk, right beside his framed picture of Peter grinning up at the camera, two front teeth missing and not a care in the world. “There. I bet you’re a pretty tough guy, right, Bucky? Like you’ve seen some things? Can you watch over Petey-pie for me then? Gotta keep an eye on him, make sure Dum-E doesn’t get any ideas about cleaning the picture frame.”

Bucky’s downturned brows said he’d take his new job very seriously indeed and with no one to judge him for it, Tony let himself indulge in another brush of fingers against the now-soft yarn on top of Bucky’s head. He murmured a tired, “Good night,” to Bucky and Dum-E and the cleaner bots and left the lab, taking the elevator up to penthouse, his bed, and a well-deserved rest.

* * *

In the hour just before dawn, when the sun’s rays still hadn’t reached the sky and the birds still hadn’t sung their morning songs, Tony Stark lay fast asleep in his bed. When there were no nightmares to chase him, he would dream of adventures and glory and _flying_, but today, in this early hour, he dreamt of blue eyes instead. They were old eyes, older and more burdened than they should ever be, but kind nonetheless, kind and gentle and they called to Tony, longing for something, begging him, but he wouldn’t remember them in the bright light of day.

In the hour just before dawn, when the world was quiet and still and just a little bit_ odd_, when clunky little bots dreamt of toasters and dust bunnies, when the hum of machinery, servers, and data banks filled the air, the workshop’s newest guest sat in his spot of honor, surrounded by paper and stationery, numbers and words. He sat, clean and cared for and put back together, more whole than he’d been in so many decades.

He sat and he watched and he _longed_—and his silver arm twitched.


	2. Chapter 2

_“You pathetic, worthless—”_

_The Asset spit in her face and Isabel reared back, lips pulled apart in a snarl. How dare he? He was her plaything, hers to command, and she would not—_

_No. She would not lose her cool. With one slow, methodical movement, she wiped the spit away and leaned over the chair to grab his chin and force him to look at her. “You think you’re strong enough to fight me?”_

_“Fightin’ you right now, aren’t I?”_

_There was too much _life_ in his eyes. It disgusted her and she wished there was someone else to blame, but that was the worst part. It was her own hold on him that was waning. He was too strong, the spells no longer enough, the electroshocks outpaced by his healing, and even cryostasis couldn’t keep him asleep for longer than two or three months at a time._

_Her eyes darted to the twitch of his lips—he was actually smiling—and she wanted to crush the bones beneath her fingers._

_This was the problem with creating an Asset so magnificent as to be worthy the glory of Hydra. If you made your plaything too strong, the little toy soldier tried to fight back._

_“I own you,” she hissed, “your heart, body, your _soul_, it all belongs to me and you will never—_never_ escape your fate. You will fight at my side, on my command, until I no longer find you useful.”_

_The Asset had the audacity to _grin_. “You’re slippin’, Izzy. You had me in a fog for decades, but no more—I’ll fight, every time you take me outta the freezer, every time you cast your weak, little spells—”_

_She shoved his face away to cut him off, unable to resist the urge to stomp to the other side of the holding cell. Pain flared to life deep in her core and she willed herself not to clutch at her stomach. How could he keep doing that? How did he fight the tethers connecting him to her, so much so that her magic recoiled and hurt her?_

_The pain was bearable, but only just so, and it kept getting worse. She couldn’t let it show though. Showing weakness in front of anyone within Hydra was all but a death sentence and there were one too many nosy lackeys standing around, currently torn between watching her with a naked curiosity and eyeing the restraints struggling to keep the Asset tied to his chair._

_Isabel knew if the Asset had just a few more minutes, he’d break through them. She didn’t want to know what he’d be able to do if he had a few more days._

_It baffled her, that there was something stronger inside him that her own magic, something that fought them all so well that these days nothing kept the Asset down long enough for him to be even remotely useful._

_She’d never seen sheer human will do so much. Most humans were weak, malleable, easy led astray by riches and glory and a sufficiently pretty face. Not this one though. The best and most brilliant of Hydra had shaped him into the perfect Asset, had found innovative ways—through science and magic and pure, brute force—to keep him compliant._

_It had worked for decades, but where everyone else would’ve given into their efforts long ago, the Asset’s resolve only grew stronger._

_She hated him, for being the exception to the rule, for making her look like a fool in front of her superiors, for making her appear weak to her subordinates. She wished the Asset was disposable—she’d slit his throat right here and now and use his worthless blood for a minor scrying spell—but the whole of Hydra had invested too much into his existence and for all his stubbornness, for all his infuriating willpower, the Asset was too good to waste on a fit of rage._

_He’d been the best assassin of the century, he’d served his masters well, and Isabel herself had reached new levels of magic and power while she pursued the goal of making him faster, stronger, more _unstoppable_._

_She couldn’t dispose of him, but she couldn’t risk keeping him awake right now either._

_Isabel turned to look at him one more time, at his bloodied mouth, at those still-full lips and the way they still curved into a smirk. Obstinate fool._

_She needed a brand new spell, a new, better way to keep him obedient, and for that, she needed time. Cryostasis did little to keep him down however, so magic was her only alternative._

_All the better. She never did trust the competency of the white coats down the hall. Everything they did was so… inelegant._

_No, magic would serve her just fine._

_With a plan starting to form, Isabel felt in control again and with squared shoulders and a swagger back in her step, she returned to her toy soldier and grasped his chin gently this time, watching those pretty eyes track her every move._

_“You are _mine_, Soldier, and you will always be mine.”_

_“I belong to nobody, princess. I ain’t your goddamn toy.”_

_So stubborn._

_“We’ll see about that.” It was her turn to smirk and finally, there was that flicker of fright in his bright, blue eyes._

_So _human_, but not for much longer._

* * *

“See, this is why I prefer my workshop,” Tony grumbled, wrinkling his nose at the papers scattered in front of him. He booped Bucky on his mask-clad nose with a pen before going back to reviewing the printed-out financials. _Printed-out_. For god’s sake, he did have a company email, didn’t he? But at least the poor intern, who appeared before him with a literal, physical stack of papers in her hands, seemed apologetic enough when Tony casually mentioned they’ve done away with paper a while ago. “I’m much harder to find upstairs. Hopefully this is the last annual report I have to review though. Senior VP of Research and Development only needs to stand around and look pretty, am I right?”

Bucky didn’t have anything to add to that, but he was still good company and Tony discovered his presense had kept more than one nosy visitor from overstaying their welcome. In fact, this may have been Tony’s most productive day in the office yet.

It was a flight of fancy to bring Bucky down to the office in the first place, but the little plush seemed lonely, spending his days sitting in the lab with nothing to do but watch Tony make an idiot out of himself—he was glad Bucky was the only witness to Dum-E’s fire extinguisher escapades the other day—so knowing he’d have to spend most of his Monday in his office, Tony grabbed his tablet, his coffee, _and_ his Bucky, ignored the handful of weird looks thrown his way, and made his way down to the office floors.

Unfortunately, being down here usually meant getting no work done. Everyone wanted _something_—often things they shouldn’t be asking for in the first place—and diverted Tony’s attention constantly, but today’s first impromptu meeting had gone a little differently.

The lawyer in question had paled the moment he spotted Bucky and kept throwing him terrified glances the entire conversation while he stammered through an explanation as to why it was imperative for his senior team to take a completely unnecessary corporate retreat on the company’s dime.

The conversation ended quickly, with lawyer walking away having promised to send all of his junior team members on a much-deserved spa day instead.

Bucky earned a seat right by Tony for the rest of the day.

Not that Tony minded the occasional small-talk, especially with anyone who was more starry-eyed about the tech and less about Tony’s bank account, but no amount of smart hiring decisions could avoid the slimy, ladder-climbing sorts in upper management who only wanted Tony’s time because they thought they could use it for their own gain.

“Keep up the good work and we’ll both escape this paper prison early.” Tony winked at Bucky and went back to reviewing the numbers, ending up so lost in his concentration that he didn’t hear anyone approach his open door.

“Tony, we’ll need to reschedule the four o’clock, there was a snow storm in Chicago and the plane’s delayed by several hours, so we won’t be able to meet with the—what is that?”

Pepper’s question left her mouth just as Tony looked up and greeted her with a wide grin. “Pepper, light of my life! I finally get to see you today.”

“Well, it’s been a very busy day.” She didn’t step into the office. “Tony, what _is_ that?” she emphasized, not taking her eyes off Bucky.

Tony resisted the urge to hide Bucky from her scrutiny. “His name is Bucky and he’s visiting the office today.”

“Is he—is that Peter’s? Please don’t tell me you’re stealing that little boy’s toys now.”

Tony scoffed at her as he fussed, moving Bucky to the other side of his computer screens. Further away from the door. Just in case.

“No, but I did find Bucky all torn up and in need of some love at the toy store while I was buying Peter some new toys—just a few stuffed animals, it wasn’t like last time, don’t give me that look—and I think this little guy was probably meant for a discard box, but got mixed up with the merchandise? Anyways, I took him home and repaired him.”

Pepper’s dubious look didn’t change, but at least she finally stepped inside to settle on the corner of Tony’s desk, perching primly on the edge. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t give him to Peter. He’s sorta—well, he’s really kinda creepy, Tony. He’s giving me the heebie-jeebies.”

Pepper shivered dramatically, exactly the same way Vasilisa did when she spoke about Bucky.

Tony frowned and looked back at the plush, who sat there with his cute little frown and his chubby arms and for the life of him, Tony couldn’t figure out why people were so freaked out by him. Sure, he wasn’t the most aesthetically pleasing plush and maybe his ninja outfit was a little too BDSM to be considered proper attire for a children’s toy and _maybe_ there was a general sense of sadness about him—although Tony liked to think Bucky was just more of a grumpy goose that a sad little ninja these days.

Okay, so maybe Bucky wasn’t entirely cute and cuddly, but the reactions some people kept having were just _unnecessary_.

Granted, it didn’t mean Tony couldn’t use them to his advantage.

“He’s actually kinda great.” He propped his chin on his hand and grinned up at Pepper. “Bucky here has kept several overeager know-it-alls and one very spoiled lawyer out of my office today.” He drummed his fingers on the stack of papers. “I actually got work done! I’m almost through this nightmare fuel of an annual report.”

Pepper seemed reluctantly impressed and in the end, her pragmatism won over her distaste. “Maybe I need a creepy doll of my own to keep nosy people away.”

“I could let you borrow Bucky for a day.”

Pepper’s nose wrinkled adorably, in the same way it did when she was presented with celery and poorly written memos, in that same way Tony used to _love_.

She must’ve seen something in his eyes because her expression softened.

“How are you doing, Tony?” she asked and the shift in tone made Tony want to run and hide.

“Pep, my sunflower, me growing overly attached to plush is_ not_ a cry for help. I have weird hobbies, we both know this. We all remember my modern art phase.”

“We all certainly do,” she agreed, but the softness in her voice remained. “I don’t think you’ve indulged much in those hobbies though. Tony, you… You’ve been cooped up in your labs for _ages_—and don’t get me wrong, it’s done wonders for this company—but you work and you work, you go to the events I put on your calendar, you smile for the cameras and then you just… fade away again. At the risk of sounding incredibly self-centered… I can’t help but feel partly responsible.”

Her eyes pleaded with him to disagree and of course, Tony did. “Pep, we both agreed things weren’t working between us. The whole ‘relationship’ and ‘romance’ thing, that was just too awkward, too weird. This right here—this is much better, for both of us.”

It was the truth, because Tony treasured both Pepper’s friendship and her business acumen, but it wasn’t the entire truth and his acceptance of their break-up didn’t lessen his own private hurt. He _loved_ her and his inability to make her happy still weighted on him, made him feel like he’d never be good enough to keep someone around. He thought Pepper would be it, his other half, his partner in crime, the person to stand beside him in this crazy world.

It wasn’t meant to be though. He was still too rough around the edges, even years after Afghanistan, he still couldn’t see himself as a good husband and father, even decades after Howard. He pushed her away by being himself—simultaneously too much and not enough.

Her small smile was equal parts pity and sympathy and Tony told himself their friendship was enough. This _life_ was enough. He had his work, his company, his friends and his godson. He had his lab full of clunky robots. It was enough.

The last thing he needed was a fairy-tale romance and some whirlwind adventure.

He hoped his playful answer would’ve been enough to mask all those thoughts, but Pepper had always been able to see right through him. She leaned over the desk to place her hand on his cheek, the touch so warm and so_ gentle_ that Tony wanted to shy away from it, if only because it left him too vulnerable.

“I’m sorry things didn’t work out,” she said, so sincere that Tony had to shake his head, careful not to dislodge her hand.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“No, but it doesn’t mean I’m not sorry. Ever since…” She stopped and let out a sigh, her gaze growing haunted before it fell to his chest where they both knew a horrid mess of scars sat just below his dress shirt, forever marking him as _defective_, a mess of a man saved and pieced together by a kind soul who deserved so much better. “Ever since Afganistan, you’ve been so withdrawn—and I know you’ve been working hard to make up for all the damage Stane left behind, but Tony, it’s been years and you deserve to rest, to be _happy_.”

He covered her hand with his own, ready to smile and deflect, but she beat him to, her sympathy turning to suspicion when her eyes darted to the side.

“What?” Tony asked.

“I feel like—I feel like he’s _judging _me. I don’t think he likes me.” Pepper mock-whispered. Tony snorted and she huffed, withdrawing her hand slowly, but even when she sat back up, Pepper still watched Bucky as if she expected him to spring to life any second.

“Pep, he’s not going to attack you.”

“I know that, but cursed objects do exist, Tony, and this one is fishy. He just—he gives me a bad feeling.” She shook her head. “Only you would find a stuffed doll with a murder glare.”

“Maybe he’s just jealous,” Tony teased and that, at least, got Pepper smiling again. The whole emotional moment was over too and at this point, Bucky was a downright miracle worker. “Maybe I’m only allowed to be _Bucky’s_ friend now.”

“Right, well, I wish you and your possessive murder plush a very happy life then,” she played along before hopping to her feet and straightening out her dress. “I should get going though. The solar initiative meeting is postponed, but I have another _very_ unfortunate meeting scheduled right after.”

“Unfortunate how?”

“Well, it’s, uh, a certain competitor of ours coming by to chat. Again.”

“Oh no, please tell me it’s not—”

“It is. Sorry.”

Tony groaned and slumped in his chair. “How many hints does Justin need? How many ways can we say, ‘no, we’re not interested in your shitty tech, please, go away,’ before he gets the memo?”

“I think the issue now is less his terrible joint venture proposals and more his little crush—on you,” Pepper pointed her finger at Tony, then grinned when Tony hid his face behind his hands and slid even further down in his seat. “So thank your lucky stars you have me to run interference for you.”

“Thank you, Pepper,” he mumbled before peeking over his fingers. “Don’t let him know I’m here, okay? Oh, and if he tries anything, pull the fire alarm and run like hell.”

“I know how to deal with sleaze balls, Tony.”

“Don’t stab him with your heels though. That’s a waste of perfectly good shoes.”

Pepper laughed, her fond mirth the last thing Tony got to see before she left the office. Tony sighed and didn’t bother to get out of his slump as he looked over at Bucky.

“I know you probably think it’s not very gentlemanly of me to let Pepper handle this, but the worst Hammer does around her is get too chatty. Truthfully, I think it’s his self-preservation instincts kicking in because he knows Pepper will find him and kill him in his sleep if he ever tried something. When I’m around though, his hands... _linger_.” Tony shuddered and gave Bucky a pleading look, jutting his bottom lip out in a ridiculous pout he was glad Pepper wasn’t here to see. “You’ll protect me, won’t you? If Justin comes around, just—just go straight for the eyes, Buckaroo.”

* * *

Even the hallways of Stark Industries had a certain, unique scent to them—fresh and crisp and so _futuristic_—and so much better than Hammer Industries, somehow, _always_—

Tony Stark’s continued success was downright infuriating, but there was something to be said about that man’s charm and what was it they said? If you can’t beat them, join them? Justin wasn’t so proud as to let opportunities go to waste and he could hardly be blamed for wanting a sliver of that infamous Stark charisma all to himself. Whether that involved a partnership with SI or a dinner date with Tony, Justin didn’t particularly care. He wasn’t picky.

Personally though, he would’ve preferred the date. Tony did have such a gorgeous, perfectly round—set of eyes. _Eyes_, yes, a good place to focus when Justin found Tony.

“And would you look at that? Here it is,” he said to himself when he spotted the placard on the door. Apparently SI’s interns were a little _too_ helpful, giving him directions right to Tony’s office.

There was a bright, orange sticky note placed over the bottom half of the placard where the carved letters declared Tony to be the CEO. The note said ‘R&D only’ in a tidy scrawl, hinting to the up-and-coming shift in power. Justin reminded himself to ask Tony about the transition process and whether he needed any advice on securing the shareholders’ vote; surely Justin and his wealth of political and corporate knowledge could be an excellent asset during a time of such significant change—

Justin took a step inside the empty office and froze, every bit of his blood turning cold.

There was a—a _thing_ sitting on Tony’s desk, right between the two large monitors. It stared at Justin with its terrifying blue eyes, _watching_.

The clammy hand of fear dragged its icy fingers down Justin’s spine, keeping him frozen in place, but a whisper in his head told him to _run, run, run._

He’d seen some awful things—and may have been responsible for a small handful of them—but he’d only felt like this once, when he was a teenager and lost in the woods behind his grandfather’s farm.

He’d seen _something_ that night and this _abomination _made that same instinct flare back to life, something that rarely had a place in the middle of ultra-modern, civilized streets of a bustling metropolis, a primordial leftover from the first creature that crawled out of the ocean—

_Back away, stay away, danger_.

Justin shook his head. That night, his grandmother had told him a witch stalked those woods and to trust his instincts, but he was a modern man who didn’t believe in fairy tales and nonsense.

It must’ve been a raccoon in those web-covered shrubs and this thing sitting on Tony’s desk, this was nothing but a_ toy_.

An ugly toy, Justin decided as he studied it further, nothing but a horrifying, stuffed monstrosity.

Still, he couldn’t make himself take another step into the office.

“Nothing to be afraid of,” he mumbled. His forehead was damp—must’ve been faulty AC—so he dabbed it with a handkerchief and hurriedly stuffed it back into his pocket before he looked down the hallway. “I wonder where Tony is, I was hoping he’d be here—”

The thing moved.

Justin looked away for a second and when he looked back, the thing _moved_, sitting right in the middle of the desk now, a good two feet away from the monitors.

Justin whimpered, the lizard brain screaming at him to _run, run, run_, but his legs were jelly—and _oh god_, he was going to get murdered by a possessed murder doll and that just wasn’t fair, he was a modern man and far too pretty and too rich to _die_—

“Oh, good god, Justin, what the hell? I swear I am putting a damn bell on you,” someone spoke in Tony’s voice and Justin had to shake his head again, blink until the fog of terror lifted and only then did he turn to see Tony standing next to him.

“Pardon?” Justin squeaked. He cleared his throat—a very respectable modern man, yes, that was him—and kept his eyes squarely on Tony. Tony was _real_ and perfectly normal and if Justin kept looking at him, nothing could kill him. Right?

There was nothing in those woods after all. No witches, no magic. Magic didn’t exist.

Tony glanced into the office and his brows furrowed even deeper. “Hey!” he exclaimed as he marched inside and grabbed the plush. “Did you move him?”

Justin had a fleeting thought to protect Tony from the murder doll, but he couldn’t move and his hypothetical heroism seemed unnecessary anyways. Tony clutched the evil beast to his chest and kept glaring at _Justin_, completely unbothered that he was holding such a cursed object.

“I swear to god, Justin, this has gotta stop. Didn’t we have a talk about personal boundaries last time? It’s getting old.”

Usually, this would be where Justin would dial up the charm, compliment Tony on his newest invention or his divinely-sculpted ass—_eyes_, his pretty, brown eyes, but right now, that doll kept its watch, those giant, bulbous eyes glaring straight into Justin’s soul, and that instinct still screamed.

_Run. Get away. Don’t touch._

It was almost too much, that push, too_ artificial_—but Justin had neither the time nor the courage to dwell on such things.

“I’m—so very sorry, Tony. Very, _very_ sorry.” He took a step back, then took another. “Got lost on my way out—meeting Miss Potts, you see, always such a pleasure—but now I must, uh, I must—”

“Leave?”

“Yes, leave. Exactly. Always so smart, Tony. Yes, I’m going to just—_leave_.”

Justin backed away several more steps, eyes lingering on Tony for one more moment before he turned around and all but sprinted down the hall, not stopping until he was inside an elevator.

With a shaking hand, he grabbed the handkerchief again and dapped at his temple, wishing his heart would stop hammering quite so violently and the elevator would move just a little bit faster.

There was no witches and no magic, that much he knew, but maybe next time, he should strike up a deal with the CEO of Pym Technologies instead.

* * *

“Well, that was more weird than usual,” Tony muttered to himself, watching Justin’s retreating back dart around the corner. He’d have to check with security to make sure Justin made his way out—_completely_ out and far, far away—but there was something off here and Justin wasn’t his usual, clingy self, so maybe Tony was off the hook today.

He still had Bucky clutched protectively to his chest, so Tony examined him carefully to make sure nothing was amiss.

“I swear, I’m going to kill Justin if he messed with you.” Everything seemed to be fine though, no strand of yarn or shiny button out of place, so Tony added with a grin, “Told you he’s touchy.”

He tipped Bucky back just to hear the chuckle and tried not to laugh when an office aide stopped mid-step at the other end of the hall, turned around, and hurried the other way. People were spooked by the silliest things sometimes.

Tony ducked into his office and put Bucky back in his spot, settling into his chair and turning his computers back on.

Damn. His inbox was overflowing already, even after that one short break.

“Apparently our intern learned how to use e-mail. That’s something.” He sighed and opened the first message, busying himself with more reports to review. Always so busy, but he did spend his weekend repairing Bucky, so it was only fair, wasn’t it?

Always so eager to jump into more just to keep the loneliness and the nightmares at bay, Pepper would say, but she wasn’t here to scold him, so Tony could pretend this was exactly where he wanted to be.

* * *

Memories ebbed and flowed, murky, fragmented, broken. Time held little meaning like this, seconds stretching into years, years that flew by in an instant, but the present moment had grown sharper than it had ever been before.

Bucky kept watch, clinging to every crisp detail, warm with a hope that hadn’t stopped growing from the moment Tony had appeared before him, had looked at him and _smiled_, in a way no one had smiled at Bucky for so very long.

He was glad to have been a help today, using one of the spells Isabel had cast to his advantage to keep that unpleasant man away, but it was such a small, insignificant thing. It wasn’t enough.

He wished, more than anything in the world, to return all those pretty smiles. He wished to take a real breath and feel the fresh chill of the outside world fill his lungs for the first time in decades; he wished to stand tall on his own two feet; he wished to scoop Tony up into two real arms and hold him so well that every vestige of loneliness would disappear.

Isabel’s most potent spell still held, but it kept growing weaker each time Tony touched him and smiled and Bucky clung to the hope that someday his wish would come true.


End file.
